


Morning After

by Trash



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: AU, Crack, Incubus Chester, M/M, Utter crack fest, would you like crack with that fic?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something in the drugs, that's why there’s a stranger in his bed, straddling his hips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning After

There must have been something in the drugs. His mom always told him, “buy cheap, buy twice,” but in reality it is more like “buy cheap, spend the night in the emergency room”. Cut with brick dust, probably, or talcum powder, rat poison. Whatever, it’s definitely why there’s a stranger in his bed, straddling his hips. This happens more than you might think, but this time Mike definitely didn’t invite anybody back with him.

"Hello," the man says.

Mike blinks up at him. He certainly looks like the kind of person he'd invite back from a club - the eyeliner smudged around his eyes and the tattoos tracing their way around his lithe body. Best be polite, in any case. "Hello."

"I'm Chester," he says, not quite smirking. He runs his fingers across Mike's bare chest, breaks the skin.

Shivering, Mike says, "Hello, Chester. I'm Mike."

Chester sniggers. "Yeah," he says, "I know. I know all about you, actually."

"Oh...okay. Have we met before? I uh...ketamine fucks with my memory so...was I any good?"

"Any good?"

"In bed. When we fucked."

Rolling his eyes, leaning in closer and whispering in Mike's ear, Chester's voice is amused, "We haven't fucked. Yet. Don't worry," he says, "we'll get to that."

This is ridiculously hot and Mike feels himself getting hard as Chester moves against him, rocking his hips forward slowly. Teasing. "So...were you at Tup Tup's Palace? Last night? Or did we meet in The Cut?"

"You think we met in a club?"

"Well...yeah." Mike freezes, pushes his hands against Chester's collar bones. "Wait. Fuck. Are you a...you're not a hooker, are you?"

Chester sits back on his heels, staring down at Mike hard. "This is so typical of you. Of course I'm not a hooker. I'm an Incubus."

“Woah,” Mike says, letting his hands fall to Chester’s thighs. “You’re in Incubus? The band? Man, I fucking love you guys.” The slap to the face is sudden, unexpected and hard. It leaves his head reeling and his ears ringing. Raising one hand to touch his stinging cheek Mike frowns.

“Years of drug and alcohol abuse have left you nothing more than a bumbling idiot, Mike Shinoda. You could have had it all, the whole world was at your fingertips. And you pissed it away, fucking strangers in dirty toilet stalls for a line of coke or an upper. You think sex gets you everywhere. It’s the only reason you still have your job – you’re the office bike and your boss couldn’t fire you because where else would he find someone to suck his cock under the table during his conference calls, huh? Hookers get paid, Mike. You don’t.”

It’s true, all of it. He hears this shit in his own head every single day but it sounds so much louder and harsher and more horrible out loud from a stranger. A member of a band that he loves telling him he is a failure reinforces the point even more.

“And I’m not in Incubus. I am an Incubus. I am a demon, I am your worst nightmare. You think sex will solve everything and I’m here to prove that it doesn’t. Not for you, anyway.”

“So what, you’re gonna rape me?”

“Yes,” Chester says. “Now, hold still.”

***

When Mike's alarm pierces through the silence he jerks awake. He looks around but he's alone and he isn't sure how happy he is about that. This surprises him, seeing as he usually calls a cab for the person he wakes up next to before he is even out of bed.

But last night was...

Chester called it rape, but Mike enjoyed it at least a little. His nails were sharp and have left huge, raised welts all over his arms and chest and legs. If he can walk he'll be pleasantly surprised.

His head has a tiny man with a road drill hammering away in it and his eyes are fit to burst out of his head. He knows he needs to take a shower - the eyeliner smudged around his eyes and his sex hair make him look like something he fucked the night before - but thinks his co-workers will just have to deal with it.

When he gets to work he is an hour late and his boss is standing in his cubicle with his hands on his hips. "Mike," he says.

Mike nods and brushes past him, falling into his chair. His computer is asleep and, when he wakes it up, opens at exactly where he left off - checking Facebook for anybody who wants to get pilled out of their minds and drink their weight in alcohol.

"You're late," his boss says, reading over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Mike says "well."

Before he knows it his boss has him up by the scruff of the neck and is dragging him across the office floor to his own office. He slams the door behind him and shoves Mike against it. "Go easy," Mike says. The cuts on his stomach and chest crack open and ooze blood all over the inside of his shirt as his boss spins him round. He braces himself against the door as his boss fucks him from behind, the pair of them breathing like they've ran a marathon.

Mike doesn't come but his boss doesn't care. None of this was about Mike having a good time. Much like last night with Chester. At least he got off then, though. His boss leaves first and Mike follows three minutes later, buckling his belt as he limps to the bathroom.

Alone in a stall he imagines himself with Chester, the pair of them hot with sweat and blood between them and he pushes a hand into the open front of his trousers to jerk himself off. It isn't until he comes, almost collapsing, that he realises he wasn't alone. A few stalls down a toilet flushes and Mike smirks to himself.

***

When he gets home Chester is sitting on his kitchen counter with a Corona in one hand and a slice of lime in the other. "How was work?" he asks, flicking his tongue over the lime suggestively before pushing it into the neck of the bottle.

Mike shrugs and throws down his keys. "I could hardly walk," he says, "but it was okay."

Chester smirks and takes a long swig of his beer. "Oh, how come?"

Mike rolls his eyes and clambers onto a stool at the breakfast bar. "I did some research. On you."

"Ooh."

"Yeah. It was a real snooze fest, mostly. Loads of Victorian women claiming they were fucked by an incubus when really it was her brother or whatever."

Chester narrows his eyes, offended.

"Not you, obviously. You're real. Do you wanna see my scratches?"

"Yes." Chester pushes himself off the counter and drains his beer. He grabs a handful of Mike's shirt and drags him upstairs. He uses his claws to tear the material to shreds, catching Mike's already destroyed chest.

Mike hisses in pain and lets Chester shove him into the bed. "I read that this is how you feed. Through sex."

"Food, that crap you humans eat, it has nothing on sex. Feeding on your energy and spirit is better than that shit you stuff into your face," Chester says, shredding Mike's pants and underwear. A claw slices through Mike's thigh, tiny droplets of blood rushing up to gather in the wound. Chester dips his head to lap at it with his tongue.

Mike drops his head back and goes to moan but all that comes out is a silent gasp. He finds his voice when Chester shoves in, hard, screaming so loud his neighbour pounds a fist against the wall.

They go at it for hours, Mike drifting in and out of consciousness. He wakes up and sees Chester's face hovering above his, sweat glistening like glitter on his face. Then the pain gets too much and he blacks out again.

***

The next day at work his boss calls him into the office and Mike wheels himself there in his computer chair.

"What are you doing?" He frowns.

"Rough night," Mike says, raising his eyebrows as if to say 'you know what I mean.'

"You're late, again."

Mike sighs. "Yeah," he says, "I know. It won't happen again."

His boss looks him up and down, frowning. "Are you bleeding?"

Without even looking down Mike knows he is. Chester's talons are like razors and, even when it isn't deliberate, he cuts him so deep you can see the fatty tissue under his skin. They take a moment to bleed and when they do they ever stop. He looks like he's been in a fight with a tiger.

"You have...bruises. On your neck. Were you mugged?"

That's a much easier to swallow explanation. "Yeah, last night," he says, "some guy jumped me."

His boss's eyes widen. "Did you call the cops?" he asks.

“Yeah. It's all being sorted out," Mike says, vaguely.

“Okay, well...you go back to work."

Mike raises an eyebrow, "Really? Okay."

"And make sure you're on time, tomorrow."

***

Being with Chester makes him tired. He says as much that evening while the demon relaxes beside him, leaning on his elbow and holding his head in one hand whilst he licks blood off the other. "That's the point," he says.

"I can barely function anymore," Mike says. "My boss didn't even want sex today, because I have eyes like two sheep’s vaginas. I'm so tired I'm ugly."

Chester smirks, fangs showing just enough to be menacing. "You don't learn, do you?"

Mike shrugs, heaves a sigh. "Dunno. What am I supposed to be learning?"

"That not everything is about you. You're not a planet for everything to orbit, you're a waste of space."

"Oh," Mike says, "that." He wants to ask something else but Chester is on him again and, soon enough, in him as well.

***

At work he collapses. His boss wants to call an ambulance but Mike won't let him. "Exhaustion," he says.

His boss smiles weakly. "Take some time off, Mike, get your shit together."

He is beyond embarrassed, staggering away from his desk as if drunk. Outside Chester is leaning against the wall smoking, Ray Ban shades wrapped around his eyes. He smiles, "Mikey!"

"Not tonight," Mike protests, weakly, as he walks away.

Chester appears in front of him suddenly, leering. "But Mikey, I'm hungry."

***

Mike's time off work is mostly spent in bed. With or without Chester he isn't sure. When the incubus is there Mike wishes he was alone, when he is alone he wishes for Chester to touch him bite him hurt him oh god yeah like that.

Whenever he wakes up Chester isn't around and he always passes out before either of them are finished. Despite spending most of his time blacked out when he comes to he is exhausted, limbs heavy. After a while he stops getting out of bed altogether.

***

"Chester?"

"Mmm."

"What happens when you get full?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Mike."

"Okay. Will it be soon?"

"Soon enough."

***

Chester shows up less and less, or maybe Mike is awake less and less. He can't tell for sure. There's a weight on his chest and he opens his eyes.

"Hello," Chester says.

Mike smiles, closes his eyes again.


End file.
